Illicit Love
by DemonessOfPunishment
Summary: Y Bakura is a brash, overprotective student. Y Marik is a drug addict and alcoholic with no reason to live. When they are forced to work together on a school project, will they overcome their differences?
1. rekhet 1

**Title: **Illicit Love  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!  
**Warning:** Yaoi, drug use, swearing

* * *

**Chapter One**

Bakura sat in his last period English class, head resting against the desk as he tried to stay awake. He didn't care about whatever the teacher had to say, or what book they were reading. All he wanted to do was go home and nap; curl up under his thick blue comforter, buried away from the rest of the world and its troubles. He had one person in the class he could talk to, Seto Kaiba, but he was too busy typing his notes as the teacher spoke.

The bell finally rang, and Bakura stood quickly, making his head spin. Deep, chocolate brown eyes went out of focus as the room spun before refocusing, and he caught his balance. The teen stood tall at 5 feet 11 inches, his snowy white hair falling around his face, contrasting with chocolate brown eyes. He wore a normal pair of dark blue jeans, black shirt hanging off his shoulders, shoulder bag swaying at his hips as he walked, his work boots clapping against the floor.

Bakura left the room with his friend, the two of them heading for the front parking lot. Seto Kaiba was six foot two inches tall. Vibrant blue eyes stared intently in front of him. With a wave to Bakura, he turned down a different hallway, heading for his locker, white trench coat waving behind him.

Heading down the hallway to the locker Bakura shared with his younger brother, Ryou, he stopped, watching at the event before. Over on the other wall, his younger brother, who looked like he could be his twin, except smaller, stood pressed against the lockers, terrified. The older teen watched, waiting to see who the culprit was, and wasn't all that surprised to see wild blonde hair.

Marik grinned wildly as he approached Ryou, violet eyes watching the shaking teen. His combat boots clicked quietly against tile as he walked, the boots enclosing around the bottom of his dark jeans. Dark blue lead to the white shirt he worse, covered by the black leather jacket. Blonde hair fanned out in large spikes, violet eyes shining against bronze skin, black eyeliner pulling out around his eyes in a simple pattern.

"What's wrong, shrimp?" Marik asked Ryou, pressing his arm against the locker, looking down at the smaller youth. He reached up, trailing his finger along Ryou's jaw line.

"N-nothing," Ryou stuttered, moving away. Marik's large hand slammed the locker next to his head, the small teen flinching, his escaped blocked off.

"Now, you wouldn't be lying, would you?" Marik asked, his voice dripping with false concern. Ryou only shook his head. "Good, because I hate liars," he sneered.

"Hey! Get away from him!" Bakura ordered, stepping around the corner, glare on his face.

Marik turned, a grin spreading across his face. Pushing off the locker, he slowly made his way over to Bakura. "Or you'll what?" he questioned. "Call for mommy and daddy?"

Bakura glared dangerously. "Leave my brother alone," he ordered, walking straight up to Marik. They both came eye to eye, and Marik laughed in his face. "What's so funny?"

"You," Marik replied. "It's cute how you think you stand a chance against me. I haven't lost a fight since I entered high school, and I sure as hell ain't gonna lose a fight to a priss like you."

With a glare, Bakura moved away and sent his fist into Marik's jaw, sending the blonde reeling. Violet eyes narrowed dangerously, and the blonde reached up, wiping the blood from his lip. "You hit like a girl," he sneered. Sending an upward punch to Bakura's nose, the other teen went sprawling onto the floor, hitting his head against the peach tile.

"Bakura!" Ryou cried, moving away from the locker, but not getting too close. He looked up the hall as Seto and Yami came running towards them.

Groaning, Bakura rolled over and pushed himself off the floor, glaring at Marik. When he saw the grin on Marik's face, he lunged, tackling the blonde to the ground, sending his fist into Marik's nose. The blonde glared up at him, catching his fist as it came down a second time. Using his body weight, Marik managed to flip them over, pining Bakura's hands on either side of his face, sitting on him. He watched as Bakura struggled under him, trying to force him off. Marik dug his nails into Bakura's pail wrist, watching the area turn red.

Marik grinned sadistically, sticking his tongue out, dragging it along Bakura's bottom lip, collecting the blood that welled there, moaning softly at its taste. He glanced down with angry violet eyes as Bakura stared at him with wide eyes before pushing himself off the ground, heading out of the school, laughing the whole way.

"Bakura?" Ryou moved over to Bakura as his brother sat up. "Are you okay?"

Bakura nodded, standing. "What about you?" he asked.

Ryou shrugged. "I've been better," he muttered.

Bakura shook his head. "Next time he's bothering you, come get me," he ordered, going over to pick up his bag.

"What the hell is that guy's problem?" Yami asked, crimson eyes watching the brothers carefully. His spiky, tri-colored hair was almost as bad as Marik's, but a little neater due to the amount of hair gel he uses. Standing nearly six inches shorter than Seto, he was probably the shortest of his group aside from Ryou and Yugi, but they were three years younger than him as well.

"You mean besides the fact that he's a complete nut case?" Bakura questioned, getting into his locker. "How long has he been messing with you?"

Ryou shrugged, looking down. "Couple months..." he mumbled. Bakura stared at him and sighed irritably, slamming the door shut. Ruffling his brother's hair, the four of them left the school, heading out to the parking lot. The four of them were going over to Seto's house to hang out, relax from the stress of the week. They'd talked Seto out of calling the driver, wanting to walk for once.

People form their school were everywhere on the streets, shopping and messing around with friends. Across the street, Bakura's dark eyes fell upon a wild mess of blonde hair, and growled deep within his throat. He watched as Marik made his way over towards Keith, another known bully around the school, and was confused when they greeted each other like old friends.

"I wonder what those two are up to," Seto mused, and Yami chuckled.

"Probably conspiring to make the lives of freshman hell," the crimson eyed teen said.

"I don't think so," Bakura said, watching as the two across the street. Keith was speaking to Marik, looking stern the whole time, while Marik held a scowl and a glare. Nodding, the two blondes shared a hand shake, and from a distance, Bakura was able to see something being exchanged. Marik instantly shoved his hand into his pocket and walked off. Grinning, Keith looked at the money in his hand, before he, too, left.

"...what was that about?" Seto demanded.

"I'm not sure..." Yami admitted.

"'Kura?" Ryou looked up at his older brother, silently questioning.

"Don't worry about it," Bakura said, smiling softly. "I'm sure it was nothing." Ryou nodded, but didn't look like he believed him. The four of them began their trek to Seto's once again, seeing no more of Keith or Marik.

* * *

Marik scowled as he walked up to his home. Outside, the Nissan Sentra sat, parked, the backseat piled high with random things. Sighing to himself, the violet eyed teen went up to the domicile and entered, kicking the door shut as he tossed his keys onto the side table. Looking around, he listened for any signs of life, hoping silently that his father had passed out drunk again. 

When he heard nothing, Marik went into the kitchen and over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of imported beer before heading for the stairs. He heard the TV going, and looked towards the living room, biting the inside of his cheek, setting the beer on the stairs before entering the other room. Quietly, he made his way over to the couch, and scowled.

Passed out, arm hanging over the side, half empty bottle of beer in hand, was his father. Still dressed in his work clothes, his father wasted no time in empty the fridge of half its content. All around him, empty beer cans and bottles littered the couch and floor. Shaking his head, Marik glared down at the man on the couch before heading back to the stairs, grabbing the bottle of beer on his way.

Marik entered his room and silently shut his door, leaning against it with a sigh. His room was unlike any other room in the house. The full size bed was pressed against the wall, the black comforter with gold detailing falling to the floor. Black walls made the room appear dim, even with the light on. His tall, black lacquered dresser was pressed against the opposite wall, a black book case on the third wall, filled with all sorts of books.

The last piece of furniture in the room was the small side table next to his bed. The black alarm clock and lamp sat there innocently, hiding Marik's biggest secret. Smiling to himself, the blonde made his way over to the bed, taking his leather coat off, sitting down, bed groaning under his weight.

Digging around in his pocket, Marik pulled out the little bag of white powder, staring at it. Shaking his head, shivering, Marik opened the drawer to the night stand and reached in, pulling out a glass plate and a deck of cards. Setting the bag on the glass place andmoving them aside, he opened the deck of cards, pulling them out. Shuffling through them, Marik finally selected the Ace of Spades.

Since he'd started using months earlier, this had been the only card Marik would use. A card that symbolized death, and the blonde was using it to cut the drug in the bag, dealing him his own, slow death. There was nothing he could do though; having gotten himself too drawn into the wonderful feeling of his high. It allowed him to escape from everything. School, his home, his father.

Setting the other cards aside, Marik opened the small bag and carefully poured the contents onto the glass plate. Taking the card, Marik slowly moved the white powder around the plate, forming a little rectangle because separating it into quarters, pulling one quarter off on its own. He reformed that small section before splitting it in half, and then started forming a line with it, stretching it out, making a thin line.

Setting the card down, Marik leaned down, his nose against the glass and reached up, pressing one side of his nose, and breathed in, quickly traveling down the line, the white powder going up his nose. He pulled away, still breathing in, making sure that none of it fell from his nose. He smiled contently as he started feeling the drugs go to work. His room started spinning, and he laughed to himself.

"Marik!" The blonde growled to himself, hearing the only person he never wanted to hear again.

"What?" Marik snarled, standing, wiping his nose, leaving his room. He headed down stairs, going into the living room to see his father sitting up, drinking his now warm beer.

"Clean this fucking place up," his father ordered with a glare.

Marik returned the glare. "You fucking clean it up," he seethed. "It's your drunken mess!"

"I don't care!" his father shouted, standing. "You live in my house, under my roof, and you will abide by my rules! Now clean this up!" Shaking his head, Marik watched his father go into the kitchen, and he assumed it was to grab another beer.

Looking at the scene before him, Marik's face contorted with disgust. The couch was covered in sweat, leaving the perfect impression of his father's form. Cans of beer he hadn't seen before suddenly appeared before him. Rolling his violet eyes, Marik turned to head for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" his father demanded.

"Upstairs," Marik answered. "Clean up your own damn shit."

Marik watched as his father stormed over to him and nail a punch to his cheek. "Listen to me, you little punk bastard! I want this place cleaned up! So fucking clean it up!" Glaring, violet eyes turned dangerous, and he shoved his drunken father, watching the man topple over, hitting his head against the table. Shaking his head, he stormed upstairs, slamming the door to his room. Within an hour, the bottle of beer he took, and the white powder would be gone.


	2. rekhet 2

**Title: **Illicit Love  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!  
**Warning:** Yaoi, drug use, swearing

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Bakura sat broadly in his history class, listening as their teacher kept going on about their up coming project. It was aone monthproject, and it was to be done in groups of two, and it had to relevant to World War II. Sighing to himself, the snowy haired teen listened to everything involved. A class presentation, complete with power point, and a ten page paper. They were to have at least six sources, and couldn't have more than two internet sources.

"Okay, now, I'm going to assign your partners..." their teacher stopped, hearing a good portion of the class groan. Shaking his head, he was about to assign partners when the door opened and Marik stepped inside, closing the door. "Well, nice of you to join us today, Marik."

"Oh, yeah, because I'm sure me being hear makes everyone's day," Marik grumbled, and Bakura's eyes narrowed. The blonde shoved a note from the principal at the teacher then made his way to his seat at the back of class, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Are you feeling okay?" his teacher questioned him, staring at the wet finger prints on the piece of paper.

"Fine," Marik snarled, sitting down, putting his feet on his desk, crossing his arms over his chest as his began to shake. "So, what are we doing?"

The teacher stared at him. "A group project on World War II, I was about to assign partners," he stated.

Marik rolled his violet eyes. "Might as well fail me now," he mumbled. Shaking his head, the teacher started assigning partners, not that Marik really cared.

Bakura kept a steady glare in Marik's direction. He was only half way listening to the teacher, silently hoping he didn't get paired with Marik, knowing he'd end up doing the whole thing. Shaking his head, the dark eyed teen returned his attention to the front of the class, eyes falling on his history teacher. He watched as everyone was paired up slowly, until the teacher finally called out his name.

"Bakura, I think I'll have you work with..." he paused, looking through the list. "...Marik!"

"What?" Both teens in questioned snapped, standing quickly, their chairs getting pushed backwards.

"Is there a problem?" their teacher questioned.

"Yes!" Marik snapped. "I refuse to work with a stuck up prick like him!"

"Stuck up prick? You fucking bastard!" Bakura snarled. The students around them quickly moved away. "I refuse to work with the inconsiderate asshole who messes with my brother!"

Marik grinned. "Why, want him all to yourself?" he questioned.

Bakura's eyes widened and he looked disgusted. "You sick fuck!" he shouted.

"Bakura! Marik! Enough!" Their teacher snapped. "You two are working together, and that's final! If you don't do it, then it's your grade that will suffer, because this is worth twenty percent of your final grade!"

"What?" Bakura returned his attention to his teacher. "You expect me to work on a project that big with this fucking jackass!"

"Yes, I do!" Their teacher snapped. "Now, sit down! If you don't like it, then do it alone, and say so in the student evaluation!"

The two teens huffed and plopped into their seats, looking away from each other with a glare. They sat there for the rest of class, even as the teacher made them split up to discuss their projects. Nearly twenty minutes before class was over, Marik pulled his coat off, sweating immensely, feeling the effects of his body's withdrawal. He knew the only reason it was happening now was because he went through a weeks worth of cocaine in an hour; making him sweat and shake. He tried to remain as normal looking as possible, but his dark blue shirt was growing darker by the minute as he body continued to sweat.

From his seat, Bakura watched Marik carefully. He couldn't figure out why they day before he seemed to be fine, and now it seemed like his body was falling apart. He shook continuously, and he could see the sweat pouring down his face. When he started thinking about seeing him the day before with Keith, and recalling the rumors concerning Keith being a drug dealer, he started thinking Marik's body was suffering from withdrawal. However, without evidence, he couldn't do anything about it.

The bell to end classes rang, and Marik stood quickly, grabbing his jacket, leaving out the back door of the class. Bakura rolled his eyes. "Probably going to get high..." he mumbled. Leaving the class, he made he way to the cafeteria, catching up with Tristan and Malik.

"What do you looked so pissed?" Malik questioned, sitting at their usual table.

"I got paired with Marik for a history project," Bakura grumbled, sitting next to Malik.

"That sucks," Tristan stated. "So, are you going to do it all yourself, or try to get Marik involved?"

Bakura huffed. "Like that idiot gives a damn," he grumbled, resting his head on the table.

Marik entered the cafeteria halfway through lunch, having already gone to look for Keith elsewhere. Violet eyes looked around the cafeteria before settling on a table in the far corner, and he quickly went over to it, taking a seat in the vacant chair. He got a few strange looks from the people at the tables and around him, but a heated glare quickly had them looking the other way.

"Wow, Marik, you look like shit," Keith stated, fixing the bandana on his head. "What happened?"

The boy next to him, Rex, laughed, shoving some of his wild brown hair from his face. "Someone's going through withdrawal!" he stated.

Marik glared. "Shut up," he growled, handing Keith some money. "Give me two."

"Two? You just bought one yesterday!" Keith stated, taking the money. Counting it quickly, he shoved it into his pocket before pulling out two small bags, handing them to Marik. "So, why do you need some again so quickly? Not that I'm complaining..."

Marik growled. "My father really pissed me off, and it was gone within an hour," he stated.

Rex made a face. "Suckage," he commented. "Being high when you're pissed is no fun. ...you should come over later. We're all gonna get totally shit faced."

Marik shook his head. "Are you kidding? I'm gonna go home, do a line of coke, and go to bed," he stated.

"You still using the ace of spades?" Keith asked and Marik nodded. "One of these days, that'll bite you in the ass, and you will die."

Marik shrugged. "Like anyone will care when I die..." he mumbled, standing, heading off.

* * *

Bakura left after his last class and ran around the school, looking for any sign of Marik. He refused to do the history project by himself, and was going to get Marik to work on it even if it killed him. The snowy haired teen turned another corner, seeing Marik getting his leather coat from his locker, looking dull. 

Scowling, Bakura stormed over to Marik and shut the locker door just as Marik was about to. "Listen," he ordered, and Marik raised an eyebrow, putting his coat on. "I'm not doing this whole damn history project alone, and I don't care if you hate history or how fucking lazy you are, you're going to help with it."

Marik stared at Bakura for nearly a minute before he started laughing. "Listen, _pal_," he said sarcastically, "I don't give a damn about this assignment, and I don't give a damn about you. Just do what the teach said; do the whole thing yourself, then slam me in the partner evaluation."

Bakura glared, grabbing Marik's arm as he tried to walk off, shoving him against the locker. "You don't get it, do you?" he demanded. "I'm _not_ doing this all by myself. You _will_ help with it, or I'll hurt you."

Marik stared at him and laughed. "I think we proved yesterday that you can't hurt me," he said cockily.

Growling, Bakura sent his fist into Marik's gut. "You pathetic junkie," he sneered. "You may not give a damn, but pretend for a month that you do, and once this is over, you can go back to whatever drugs you do."

Marik gasped softly, gritting his teeth. "You don't know a fucking thing about me," he seethed. "Do the damn project yourself." Shoving Bakura away, Marik pulled his leather coat on, arm wrapping around his gut, his body starting to shake. Physiologically, his body was craving the white substance in his pocket, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Psychologically, Marik needed it. He knew he couldn't go a day without, and he didn't care that one person was able to figure it out.

Leaning against the lockers, the blonde continued to watch Bakura, waiting to see if he'd leave, or if he would continue to stand there. Violet eyes stared dully, the spark that once shined long since dead. They eventually locked with dark brown; and Marik suddenly wanted to leave. There was something about Bakura's eyes that bothered him, made him feel uncomfortable. He held the gaze before he blinked, and looked away.

"What's wrong? Scared?" Bakura taunted. "You can beat up my little brother, but you can't look me in the eye?"

Marik glared at him. "I'll have you know, I haven't beaten your brother...physically," he stated.

"Oh, well, even though he still fears you, that's comforting," Bakura commented, sarcasm dripping with ever word. "I'll consider that when I'm pretending to give a damn."

"Glad to know I could help," Marik grumbled, turning to walk off.

Bakura grabbed the back of Marik's jacket and slammed him against the locker, his hands coming down on both sides of his shoulders, the sound of flesh hitting steel echoing throughout the hallway. The blonde stared with wide eyes, before narrowing at the snowy haired teen. Grabbing his wrist, he shoved the other teen away, nails digging into his pale flesh.

"Let's get this straight," Marik hissed dangerously, "I don't give a flying fucking Ra about the assignment, so if you want it done, then you can do it." Releasing his wrist, Marik stalked off, and Bakura growled in frustration.


	3. rekhet 3

**Title: **Illicit Love  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!  
**Warning:** Yaoi, drug use, swearing

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Bakura stared at the piece of paper, address written in tiny letters. Brown eyes narrowed as he looked up at the house, features contorting in question. Frowning, the snowy haired teen headed up to the house, walking past the Nissan in the driveway. Going up to the door, he reached out, knocking harshly, wanting to get Marik's attention.

Bakura stood there for a few moments before he heard movement. "I coming...I coming..." came the drunken slurs as someone unlocked the front door. When it opened, brown eyes stared at the man who could have only been Marik's father. "Whatcha want?" he demanded, sipping from the nearly full bottle of beer, the amber liquid dripping from the corners of his mouth.

"Um...is Marik here?" Bakura asked, trying his hardest not to flinch away from the smell of alcohol.

The blonde in front of his stared before scowling. "You a friend of the little bastard?" he questioned, but waved Bakura in, walking off. "Marik! Get your punk ass down here!"

Stepping into the house, Bakura shut the door and watched as the man retreated back into the living room. Standing there, the snowy haired teen wondered if anyone was alive anywhere else in the house. His silent questioned was answered after five minutes when Marik finally emerged at the top of the stairs, his bloodshot eyes narrowed as they fell on Bakura.

"Why you here?" Marik asked, stumbling as he tried to walk down that first step.

Shaking his head, Bakura headed up the steps as Marik continued to come down them, catching the blonde before he fell. The snowy haired teen pushed Marik back up the stairs, and he blonde headed for his room. Shaking his head again, Bakura followed him, and his face contorted in disgust, seeing the empty beer bottles. Aside from the few empty bottles, Marik's room was clean, and dark.

The blonde went over and lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as his eyes began to close. "Oh no, stay awake," Bakura ordered. "Trashed or not, you're helping with this assignment." Going over to the blonde, he leaned down and tapped his cheek.

"Nnn...leave me 'lone," Marik mumbled, swatting the hand away. Violet eyes opened again to glare. "Go away."

"No," Bakura snapped. "You're fucking helping me with this Goddamn thing. Jesus, why'd you have to get so fucking trashed..." Sighing, he got off the bed and looked around the room. His brown eyes settled on the bookcase and he slowly made his way over to it, looking through the books. Surprisingly, he found three books on the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Pulling the books from the shelf, he decided to see what else the blonde liked to read.

He was a little surprised to see so many books about drugs, not that anyone would be able to tell. Glancing back to the blonde, he frowned, heading back over to the bed. He looked at the sight before him; the blonde stretched out on his bed, hair tussled, mouth open slightly as he remained in his semi-conscious state, eyes half open. Shaking his head, Bakura looked down at the night stand, eyes narrowing slightly.

He reached out, carefully grabbing the handle of the tiny drawer, pulling it out. Inside, he found the card; face up, on the glass plate, the bags hiding under it. He was about to reach into it when a tan hand slammed the drawer shut and shoved him away.

"What the hell are you doing!" Marik hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously.

Bakura stared at him. "You really are a pathetic junkie!" he stated. "So this is why you don't give a damn about anything? Too busy killing brain cells?"

Marik glared and shoved Bakura away from his night stand. "You don't know a fucking thing about me," he stated. "I do what I have to in order to live fucking day after day." He stopped and snorted, his lips curling into a sneer. "Not like you give a damn."

Bakura stared at him, and his brown eyes narrowed as took a step towards Marik, ready to retort before he was interrupted. "Marik! Get your fucking ass down here!" his father shouted from downstairs.

Marik turned his attention to the door, then back to Bakura, and sighed, walking past the snowy haired teen. Either way, he couldn't win. He either dealt with his father first, or Bakura, and neither were looking very good for a happy outcome. Leaving his room, the blonde slowly made his way down stairs, stumbling slightly, but otherwise without problems.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the living room, his father standing there with a steady glare. "You've been taking some of my beers!" he hollered, stepping towards Marik. "You lousy, no good, son of a bitch!" Raising his fist, the older blonde brought his fist across Marik's cheek, sending him to the floor. In a drunken rage, and with him still as stoned as he is, Marik could honestly say he didn't stand a chance.

Marik wheezed as he hit the floor hard, the muscles in his chest tightening. He stared down at the floor, his vision tunneling as he tried to stand, the darkness slowly creeping in. He turned over slightly, his father's black shoe connecting with the side of his face. Groaning, Marik wiped the blood from his lip. The shoe came down again, this time on his chest, and the blood freely rolled from the corner of his mouth as he nearly screamed, rolling onto his stomach, curling into a ball.

"You worthless piece of shit!" his father shouted. "Where is all my damn beer? I bet you and that fucking friend of yours is up their drinking it now!"

"You've been drinking it you dumb fuck!" Marik snapped, then groaned in pain as his chest constricted. He wheezed, breath coming in short gasp, his eyes dilated to the point that he was looking out a pin whole. The blonde wished silently that the darkness would take him, that he would never have to see the light again.

Marik tried to get off the ground, his legs shaking. Blood stained his shirt and the carpet, and the violet eyed teen slowly made his way for the stairs. His father sneered as he stormed back into the kitchen, and the blonde shook his head. Slowly making his way up the stairs, Marik wiped his mouth and chin, then remembered Bakura was still in his room.

Sighing, he stopped outside his room, staring at the door. He didn't care if people knew he was a druggie, or that he got drunk at least once a week, failed his classes, or anything to that affect. The thing he cared about most was that no one found out about his father's abuse; but now Bakura had heard him.

Scowling, and putting his normal glare on his face, Marik stormed into his room. He looked towards his bed, seeing the snowy haired teen by his bed, looking just as angry. For a moment, the blonde was confused, but didn't show it, wondering why Bakura looked just as pissed as he was. He soon figured it out, his eyes falling on the two bags in Bakura's hand.

"What are you—" Marik started, but Bakura cut him off quickly.

"Is this all you do in your spare time?" Bakura demanded, tossing the bags down, white powder spilling out onto the side table. "Get high, get drunk, and then let your father beat the shit out of you! No wonder you're so fucking pathetic..." Bakura had no chance to finish what he wanted, Marik's fist connecting with the side of his face.

Within seconds, Bakura found himself on the bed, tan hands around his throat. Brown eyes stared up at the blonde, staring into raging violet eyes. "You...you don't know a fucking thing about me...!" the bigger teen screamed. "You think you're so fucking perfect! But what troubles have you ever had? A bad fucking grade! You wouldn't last a day as me!" Bakura instantly felt the sting of flesh against flesh as Marik's fist slammed against him again.

Above him, Marik stared down with a sneer as the snowy haired teen winced, his face turning red. Violet eyes watched him carefully, the grip on his neck slacking slightly. The amount of rage he felt was just reaching the boiling point; everything coming to a head, and he no longer felt like he could handle it.

Earlier in the principal's office, he was told that if his grades didn't improve, the odds of him graduating were nonexistent. His body was building up a resistance to the drugs he used, and was slowly increasing the amount he used. His father's abuse was slowly increasing in devastation. The blonde wasn't sure he could handle much more.

"You're full of excuses," Bakura said from his spot on the bed, brown eyes narrowed at the blonde, mostly out of confusing at the sudden change in demeanor. "So, what's your reason for the drugs? To escape the pains of your life?" He stopped, snorting in disgust. "I bet you use to cut yourself. That's probably why you pick on my brother! It's an escape for you! Well grow up! You aren't the only one with problems!" As he spoke, he could feel the hand around his throat tighten, until his voice was coming out in a rasp. "Instead of constantly getting high, why don't you get your shit together and try to get the fuck out of here?"

Marik gritted his teeth, his jaw locking, and his brought his fist against Bakura's cheek again. "You don't know a damn thing about me," he growled, an inch from Bakura's face. Violet locked with brown, and the two teens stared at each other for a long moment before Marik snorted. "You fucking come into my room, and look through my shit, and expect to know everything about me! You don't know jack shit about me... You couldn't even begin to understand the hell I go through every day!"

"You mean the hell you bring upon yourself?" Bakura snarled. "...you fucking sit in your room and do a line or shoot up, or whatever you do, instead of going out and try to better yourself!"

Marik gave Bakura a cold, hard stare, before a malicious grin broke out on his face. "Better myself?" he repeated, his hand moving from Bakura's neck to grip at his hair, forcing his head back with a sharp yank. "There is no hope for me," he whispered, and Bakura could feel his hot breath dance across his lips. "Ra had forsaken me long ago..."

Bakura stared up with wide brown eyes, suddenly detesting the closeness between him and Marik. He heard a small, annoyed sounding growl escape the blonde's before he surged forward; crushing their lips together in a kiss so full of anger it made him sick to his stomach. He pushed against Marik, trying to shove the blonde off, only to have the grip on his hair tighten. The snowy haired teen gasped, trying not to groan in pain.

Marik's hungry mouth eagerly swallowed any sound Bakura had to make, pressing forward, his tongue invading the moist cavern before him; exploring every inch, enjoying how Bakura struggle against him. He groaned softly as Bakura dug his nails into him as an attempt to get him off, and only grinned, biting into Bakura's lips roughly.

The blonde finally pulled away, his lungs begging for air, and he stared down at Bakura with a grin, taking notice of the shock and disgust in brown eyes. "Like I said, you know nothing about me," he stated, getting off the bed, releasing Bakura. "Now get out."

The snowy haired teen stared wide eyed at the blonde. He nodded wordlessly and got off the bed, quickly moving past Marik and out the room. He quickly left the house, wanting to get as far away as fast as he could. His pale hands reached up shakily, brushing against his bruised lips. The moment played over in his mind a million times, and for some reason, he couldn't get the thought out of his head that he wanted it to happen again.


	4. rekhet 4

**Title: **Illicit Love  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!  
**Warning:** Yaoi, drug use, swearing

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Ryou entered the bar with Yugi, Malik, Joey, and Tristan, looking around for everyone else. The small teen huddled closer to the blonde in front of him, chocolate eyes watching everyone around him, trying to keep them at a safe distance as he walked. It had been his brother's idea to go out drinking, and the snowy haired boy felt it was his responsibility to make sure his sibling made it home safe. However, he was now starting to regret the idea. Many of the people around him frightened him, making the small teen want to hide away.

Malik glanced back at Ryou and chuckled, pulling the short teen to him as they headed towards the bar. Yugi, Joey and Tristan were heading for a large empty table, needing to reserve it before everyone else showed up and there was no place to sit. They made it over to the bar, a crowd of people around it, all of them talking, waiting, and some yelling at the bartender.

"Where the fuck is Marik?" Rex demanded from behind the counter. "He said he'd come in tonight!"

Keith shrugged, making drinks as fast as he could. "No idea," he stated. "I mean, it's his day off, just because the boss called him doesn't mean he has to show up."

Ryou's eyes widened slightly, hearing them talk about Marik. Suddenly, the small teen wanted to leave, not liking the idea of being there without his brother if Marik was going to show up. He huddled closer to Malik, if it was possible, and the blonde understood why, patting his shoulder. He sighed, deciding that the wait was going to be a long one. There were two bartenders, fifty some odd people, and only one of them seemed to know what they were doing.

"Sorry I'm late," Marik said as he moved past Malik and Ryou, hopping over the bar, handing his leather jacket to Rex. "Bring me glasses and bottles of alcohol," he said to the brunette, cracking his knuckles. "Keith, you start at that end, I'll start at this one, and we'll meet in the middle."

The blonde nodded, and they both moved down the bar, quickly making up drinks. All around him, Marik could hear the people, and hear the music. Orders were flying at him left and right, Rex taking money as he put the drinks together and passed them out. Keith eventually made it down the line, stopping in front of Malik and Ryou, a grin spreading across his lips. "I wasn't aware that children could be out this late," he teased.

Malik glared at him. "What are you still doing out, then?" he demanded.

Keith rolled his eyes behind dark sunglasses. "How cute," he drawled. "Now, what do you want?"

"Kamikaze," Malik said, glancing down at Ryou.

"J-just a soda, please," Ryou answered softly.

Keith stared at him, a hearty, sarcastic chuckle leaving his lips. "Kid, this is a bar, we drink alcohol here," he stated, "the only soda we give out is with a shot of Jack or rum in it."

"He doesn't drink," Bakura said as he pushed his way over to Ryou and Malik, their friends behind him.

"Its fine, Bakura," Ryou said, looking up at him. "I'll have a jack and coke."

"And the rest of you?" Keith questioned, a grin on his face as he grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels from under the counter.

Out the corner of his eyes, Marik was watching Keith carefully. The rule of bar was that only one bottle of a brand of alcohol was to be open, and that "special" bottles were kept under the main bar. Violet eyes kept careful watch as Keith made Ryou's drink. The blonde knew what the other bartender was doing, and growled softly, handing out the drinks he just finished. When he saw Keith hand Ryou the glass, the small teen preparing to sip from the glass, he stormed over, snatching the glass away and throwing it into the sink, the glass shattering.

"What the hell is your problem?" Keith demanded of the other blonde.

"Don't give me that shit," Marik hissed, putting the bottle back. "That's not cool."

"Since when do you care?" Keith questioned with a chuckle. "He needs to loosen up."

"Just go help them," Marik ordered. "Or I'll tell the boss." With a glare, Keith walked off to where Marik was, helping the other customers. "Okay, what did you want?" the blonde asked them.

"What was wrong with his drink?" Bakura demanded angrily, stepping up to the bar.

"I'll explain it to you later, maybe," Marik stated. "Now either tell me what you want, or get lost."

Bakura sighed. "He wants a jack and coke, I want a three wise men, and Kaiba wants a sex on the beach," he said.

Nodding, Marik pulled out the glasses and grabbed the fluids needed. He made the jack and coke first, stirring it before handing it over to Ryou; who took it carefully, staring at Marik with wide eyes. Violet eyes rolled as Marik quickly put together a sex on the beach, passing it to Seto. Lastly, he grabbed the Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, and San Jose, pouring the three bottles at once before handing it over to Bakura.

"Can I get you anything else?" Marik questioned, putting the bottles away.

"Um, I need another kamikaze," Malik stated, putting the empty shot glass down. Nodding, Marik took the shot glass and put it in the sink before grabbing another one, quickly putting together a kamikaze with ease.

"How much?" Bakura asked, shooing everyone away as he pulled out his wallet. "...and what the hell was wrong with Ryou's drink?"

Marik rolled his eyes. "Keith used a bottle of Jack Daniels that was laced with LSD," he stated, adding up the cost of the drinks. "Twelve bucks."

"What?" Bakura hissed. "He just tried to give my brother drugs?"

"Did I let him?" Marik countered. "No. I may pick on your brother, but even I know where to draw the line."

Bakura growled, paying for the drinks. "How can you even work in a place like this?" he asked, shaking his head.

Marik shrugged. "Free drinks," he stated, making a drink for himself, filling up the outer shot glass with Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, and San Jose, making a three wise men. Then, he grabbed a bottle of vodka and filled up the inner shot glass.

"...that's gonna kill you," the snowy haired teen stated. The blonde shrugged before picking up the shot glasses, tipping his head back, downing them both at once, the liquid burning a line down his throat. Bakura rolled his eyes. "So, when do you get off?" he questioned.

"Why do you care?" Marik asked with a cough, putting the shot glasses in the sink, taking care of some people next to Bakura.

"Because I want to play you in a game of quarters," Bakura stated, shrugging.

Marik raised a delicate eyebrow in question, then chuckled. "Cute, Bakura, cute, but you couldn't beat me in quarters if your life depended on it," he said. "And I get off soon, since I wasn't even supposed to be on today."

"Fine," Bakura stated. "Come find me, and I'll pay for half the bottle we use."

Marik shrugged. "Alright," he said, going back to helping customers.

Grinning, Bakura grabbed his drink and headed over to the table his friends were at, taking his seat. He quickly through back his head, the liquid sliding down his throat with ease. Setting the shot glass down, chocolate brown eyes watched everyone around him. His brother was sitting next to him, hunched down in his chair, trying to look invisible. Bakura knew that seeing Marik there had made Ryou more than uncomfortable. He sighed, deciding that they wouldn't stay there long, seeing as it was his idea to go there.

Bakura looked up as the chair across from him was pulled out and a tray was placed on the table, complete with ten shot glasses, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and an ashtray. Marik sat down and pulled the ashtray towards him, pulling out his pack of cigarettes, lighting one of the sticks, blowing the smoke out his nose. He pulled his blonde hair out of his face and opened the bottle, filling the shot glasses.

"You know, that's bad for your health," Bakura stated, taking five of the filled glasses.

The blonde shrugged, draping one arm over the back of his chair. "Thank you, doctor, shall we analyze the health hazards of drinking while we're here?" he countered sarcastically.

Chocolate eyes narrowed into a glare. "You don't have to be an asshole," he stated. "Although, seeing as you seem to be incapable of any other human emotion, that's the best anyone will get out of you."

Marik yawned broadly. "I thought I was here to play quarters, not listen to you bitch," he commented.

Bakura snorted, picking up a shot glass. "Cheers," he said sardonically, throwing his head back, drinking the liquid quickly. The blonde grinned and did the same, the two of them setting the shot glasses down at the same time. They continued at a steady pace, and within the hour, nearly half the bottle was gone, and they had moved to their own table in the back towards the bar so they didn't disturb anyone else.

"You aren't the light-weight I had you pegged for," Marik commented with a cough, drinking another shot.

"Coming from a practiced veteran such as yourself, I'll take that as a compliment," Bakura countered. He rested his head against the table, coughing softly. He wasn't use to drinking so much, and was starting to develop a migraine.

Marik snorted. "What's wrong? Can't handle anymore?" he asked,

Bakura looked up, chocolate eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know what, just because I don't get drunk or high everyday like you doesn't mean I'm so weak that I can't hold my alcohol."

The blonde glared at Bakura, and his lips curled into a sneer. "You shit face," he growled. He stood quickly, unsteady on his feet. "You think you're so fucking perfect. You come in here with your friends, and your family, looking for a good time, and just because you aren't succeeding in beating me, you get pissed. Well, fuck you." Shaking his head, Marik turned towards the bar. "Hey, Keith, hand me a fresh one!" Turning, he kept his glare on Bakura. "Fucking priss, I'll finish this now."

"What the hell is your problem!" Bakura demanded, standing.

"Here ya go," Keith said, handing Marik the bottle, a grin on his face. The blonde handed Keith some money and opened the bottle, bringing it to his lips, tipping his head back, chugging the amber liquid. Bakura watched with wide eyes, and after nearly two minutes, the blonde emptied the bottle and threw it against the wall.

"When you can do that, then come get me for a game of quarters," Marik seethed. "Until then, stay the fuck out of my way, and out of my life!" Turning, the blonde stormed off, only to be stopped by Rex, who leaned up to whisper in his ear. The tan teen paled, and turned to Keith, who still held a grin. "You fucker!" he snapped.

Keith chuckled. "You shouldn't have stopped me earlier, Marik," he stated. Marik's violet eyes narrowed in a murderous glare before he left the bar, slamming the door behind him.


	5. rekhet 5

**Title: **Illicit Love  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!  
**Warning:** Yaoi, drug use, swearing, violence

**Special Note:** I'd like to send a special thanks to my friend (and beta reader who harasses me, but in a good way) for checking over my chapters and making sure they're perfect (and now she'll probably correct this because of the bad grammar). Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Bakura sat broadly at the lunch table, his friends talking all around him. Snowy hair fell around his face, chocolate eyes staring between Seto and Yami, watching the wall with a blank stare. He hadn't seen nor heard from Marik since the weekend, the blonde no where in school, either. After questioning his brother, he determined that the violet eyed teen wasn't at school. No one had heard from him; he hadn't harassed his brother, hadn't caused trouble. The chocolate eyed teen figured he still had a hangover or a killer headache.

Heads snapped toward the main door of the cafeteria, the metal doors slamming against the concrete walls. Everyone at the table looked up to see Marik standing there. Violet eyes were narrowed into a murderous glare, quickly falling onto the object of his rage. Blonde hair was down, falling around his face and shoulders. His lips curled into a sneer. Moving in his usual long, graceful strides, his heels clicking against the floor as he stormed over to his usual table; a few hundred eyes settled upon him, watching as Keith stood.

Bakura stood, having seen that look on Marik's face at the bar, looking ready to kill. Chocolate eyes watched as the blonde walked over to Keith, and without warning, swung at him, his fist connecting with the other blonde's jaw. Instantly, people crowded around the two as the fight ensued. Keith stumbled and wiped the blood from his chin, eyes narrowed from behind his dark sunglasses. Bakura moved from his table, pushing his way into the crowd, as Marik took another wing at Keith, the other teen dodging and sending his fist into the violet eyed teens gut.

The grin that spread across Marik's face as Keith's fist connected with his gut was truly sadistic, violet eyes lighting up at the contact. He relished the pain that spread throughout his torso, taking notice of the horrified look on Keith's face as his grin spread from ear to ear. The grin turned truly dangerous as violet eyes narrowed and Marik brought his knee up, connecting with the underside of Keith's jaw.

The Egyptian knew Keith's every weakness. Long time drug use had slowed his reaction time, and a hard enough punch to the head or face would have been enough to send him reeling, blurring his vision. Years of drinking made his insides tender, slowly deteriorating. Keith wasn't the fighter he once was, and Marik knew. However, the drug dealer was never one to go down without a fight.

Keith stumbled back, coughing, spitting the blood from his mouth. All around him, he could hear security and the counselors shouting at them to stop, but the crowd was too big and packed from them to get through. He glanced over his sunglasses, seeing Marik's fist flying for his face, connecting. His head hit the floor, a groan leaving his lips. He looked up as Marik's foot was coming down to smash against his face and rolled out of the way, getting back to his feet.

He glared at Marik from behind his sunglasses and laughed at him. "C'mon, are you really that pissed?" he asked. "It was an instant high! Besides, that's what you get for getting in my way!" He swung, striking Marik's cheek, watching his head snap to the side. His other fist connected with the Egyptian's gut, and Marik doubled over, clutching the table, dry heaving, vomiting seconds later.

Keith laughed. "See, Marik, you're no match for me," he said, a smug grin on his face. "You're just my little junkie bi--" He stopped mid-sentence, voice coming out in a rasp, Marik's fist buried in his gut. The Egyptian's other hand reached up, grabbing Keith by his bandana and hair, slamming his face into the table twice, before throwing him to the floor, blood spilling from his lips has he coughed.

Violet eyes watched Keith, and a laugh escaped his lips. Stepping up to Keith, Marik sent his foot into the other blonde's gut, watching him cough up more blood. Combat boots made contact more than once, alternating between Keith's gut and face, Marik laughing the whole time. Bakura watched; chocolate eyes wide with a mixture of fascination and horror.

Marik held the same grin as he watched Keith writhing on the floor, groaning in pain. He chucked, bending down, grabbing a fistful of Keith's hair from under the bandana, pulling him up by it, hearing him groan again. "Was it as good for you as it was for me, bitch?" he snarled, sticking his tongue out, dragging it slowly up Keith's bloody face. "You ever double cross me like that again, and you won't be able to walk away from me." Throwing the other teen back onto the floor, the violet eyed Egyptian stood, turning with a glare, blood running out the corners of his lips. The crowd parted, everyone watching him fearfully. With a chuckle, Marik spat the blood onto the floor and walked off, shoving his hands into his pockets.

* * *

Bakura made his way up the sidewalk to Marik's home, knocking on the door. He'd left school grounds after the fight, and the chocolate eyed youth was unable to catch up to him. He took notice that the Nissan was gone, and pounded on the door, hoping someone would answer. He received no response, and knocked again, this time louder and with more force. Still he received no response. Shaking his head, Bakura checked the door handle and found it unlocked. Without a second thought, he let himself into the house. 

Chocolate eyes looked around the home, finding it much cleaner than the last time he was over. Shaking his head, Bakura jogged up the stairs, going into Marik's room. He found the blonde passed out on his bed, dressed in a pair of boxers, his body covered in sweat. His breathing was shallow, eyes closed, head lulled to the side, blonde hair fanned out around his face. The snowy haired teen went over to the other, sitting on the bed and tapping his face, getting no response.

Sighing, Bakura stood and pulled Marik up, the other's head falling back. The pale teen lifted him up, surprised at how light the Egyptian truly was. With some careful maneuvering, Bakura got Marik out of his bedroom and into the bathroom, resting him in the tub. Reaching over, he turned the water on and pulled the knob n the faucet, turning on the shower. Cold water rushed out, beating against tan skin, making the teen in the tub stir, groaning slightly with a shiver.

"Marik!" Bakura's head snapped to the door, hearing someone call for the blonde. However, it didn't sound like his father, the voice sounding worried for him instead of angry at him.

Standing, Bakura went over to the bathroom door and stuck his head out as the person came running up the stairs. Chocolate eyes stared at the person before him. He was tall, possibly taller than the blonde who was passed out in the tub. He was nearly bald, except for the long, jet black pony tail in the middle of his forehead. Amber eyes settled on Bakura and he went over to him.

"Who are you?" he demanded, going into the bathroom and over to Marik, checking for a pulse and his breathing.

"Bakura," the snowy haired teen answered. "I'm...I'm a friend of Marik's. Who are you?"

"Rishid," the other answered. "What happened to my brother? And what was the school talking about? Saying he got into some fight..."

Bakura shook his head. "I'll explain later, but first, we have to get him to the hospital," he stated.

Rishid nodded. "Go into his room, and in the bottom drawer of the dresser should be a pair of sweat pants and a sweat shirt. Go grab those for me," he ordered, turning the water off pulling the blonde from the tub. Nodding, Bakura ran from the room, going into Marik's room. Grabbing a towel, Rishid began to dry the blonde's skin as he shivered.

"Are these it?" Bakura asked as he showed Rishid the clothes. The older man nodded and took the clothes, carefully lifting Marik to put them on him. "Would you like some help?" the snowy haired teen questioned.

Rishid nodded. "Just make sure he keeps breathing, and try to get him to the stairs," he said, gently handing Marik over to Bakura. "I need to grab his medical record."

Bakura looked down at Marik, and nodded. "Alright, I'll even try to get him down the stairs," he stated as Rishid left the bathroom. Sighing, he began to move the blonde, heading to the stairs, checking occasionally to make sure he was still breathing. After a couple minutes, he had him halfway down the stairs when Rishid came back with the medical record and helped Bakura. Together, they managed to get Marik outside and into the car before Rishid left Bakura there to take his brother to the hospital.

* * *

Bakura walked into his house and tossed his keys onto the table, looking lost in his own thoughts. He walked past the dining room table where his father and brother sat calling for him. Heading up the stairs, the snowy haired teen went into his room, shutting the door behind him, going over to lie on his bed. Chocolate eyes stared up at the ceiling, thinking about what he just saw. 

Rolling over, Bakura buried his face into his pillow, thinking about Marik. He never imagined someone who could bully others, and take someone on in a fight and win, could suddenly be so helpless. He kept seeing the blonde's face; his eyes closed and mouth slack as his body lost a fight against whatever drugs he had taken.

The snowy haired teen could never understand how someone could become so dependent on drugs. To see Marik the way he was depressed him. The blonde had become so dependent that everything led back to them. Somehow, Bakura thought that if Marik were to get an A on an assignment, his first instinct would be to do a line of coke. Sighing, Bakura tried to push the image of the blonde from his mind.

"Bakura?" Lifting his head from the pillow, the teen in question looked over towards the door, seeing his brother standing there, looking concerned.

"What is it, Ryou?" Bakura questioned, sitting up, tired chocolate eyes staring at his brother. The younger version of himself bit his lip before going to sit on the bed.

"Are you feeling okay?" Ryou questioned, looking up at his brother. "You didn't respond when dad and I called, you missed dinner, after school you ran straight to Marik's house! Why would you want to be anywhere near him after what he did?"

Sighing, Bakura ruffled Ryou's hair. "You wouldn't understand," he stated. "That to me was like an action movie come to life! A sadistic one, but that's not the point. And I can't get over the look on Marik's face as he did it. It's one of the only times I've seen where he's enjoying life."

Ryou stared at his brother with mild disgust. "How could you have enjoyed that?" he asked. "I don't like Keith, but he didn't deserve that! No one deserved that! Marik is nothing more than a mean, horrible person and you should stay away from him!"

Bakura shook his head. "It's not that simple," he stated. "I've seen aspects of Marik's life that he wouldn't want anyone to know, and I can understand why he is the way he is." Standing, the snowy haired teen went over to his dresser and grabbed a change of clothes. "Is that all you wanted to talk about? I still need to shower."

Ryou nodded. "Yeah, that's all," he muttered, leaving the room. Sighing, Bakura followed, turning, heading into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.


	6. rekhet 6

**Title: **Illicit Love  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!  
**Warning:** Yaoi, drug use, swearing, violence

**Recommendation!** Okay, if you like my story, then you'll LOVE _Colour_ _Me Blood Red _by Meine Liebe. So read and review it! I promise you'll like it!

**Note:** Sorry it's taken so long! I got hit with writers block and a shit load of homework, and then college classes took over my life. But I promise the next chapter won't take so long to get out.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Bakura stared up at Marik's house, wondering if he should go up to the door. The once cluttered Nissan was no longer full of junk, instead cleaned inside and out, the black paint restored to a glossy shine. The newest addition in the driveway was a new, midnight blue, corvette. The snowy haired teen assumed it was Rishid's, seeing as the blonde wasn't at school, and he doubted that he'd willingly stay home with his father; so his brother had to be there if Marik was home.

Sighing, he stepped up to the door, and knocked gently. He got no response at first, but after nearly a minute, the door swung open, revealing Rishid, angry shouts coming from inside the house. Bakura wondered if he had come at a bad time, but when the older man stepped aside, opening the door even more, he nodded, entering the house, finding that the shouts were coming from Marik.

The blonde was in the living room, now free from empty beer cans and bottles, sweat rolling down his face, soaking his shirt. Violet eyes settled on Bakura, his lips curling into a sneer, eyes narrowing dangerously. He spoke to Rishid, speaking angrily in a language that Bakura couldn't comprehend. The man next to him shook his head, before turning to the snowy haired teen.

"He wants to know what you're doing here," Rishid stated, turning to Bakura.

Shrugging the snowy haired teen turned to Marik. "We have a project to work on, remember?" he said to the blonde, who narrowed his eyes in return.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the angry Egyptian spat, heading for the stairs.

"Nice try, Marik," Rishid countered, shaking his head. "I've already checked with your school, so I know all about your current...and missing assignments."

Marik growled. "Fuck off, Rishid," he snarled. "Go back to your corporate world and leave me alone."

"Marik, I'm not going back until you're better," Rishid snapped. "Now go work on your project, and maybe I'll buy you a pack of cigarettes later."

"I don't want a fucking pack a cigarettes!" Marik shouted before storming up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Bakura watched as Rishid went back into the kitchen and sighed, heading up the stairs. He could hear the music coming from Marik's room, the door shaking in the frame. He let himself into the blonde's room, finding the other teen on his bed, reading a magazine. "What the fuck do you want!" the violet eyed teen demanded.

"Project," Bakura stated, speaking slowly as if he was talking to an idiot.

With a glare, Marik got off his bed and went over to Bakura, shoving him back out the door with a hard shove. "Do it yourself," he snarled.

"No!" Bakura said, shaking his head. "I know you're going through a rough time with your drugs and shit, but I'm not going to keep having this argument with you! Now you're going to sit down, shut up, and help me with this fucking project!"

Marik stared at Bakura for a couple seconds before turning and going back into his room. Although the blonde said nothing, the fact that he didn't close the door was enough for Bakura to allow himself to enter. He watched as the violet eyed teen went over and lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His brow came together, deep in thought, as he tried to sort out everything that happened.

"You know, we could help each other," Bakura said from the doorway. "You're going through a rough time, with your dad and with the drugs, but I can help."

Marik snorted. "How could a priss like you help?" he questioned. "Your biggest trouble is a bad grade, what could you know about drugs and abuse."

Bakura twitched, but managed to keep his cool as he went over to the bed. "I'll make you a deal," he said. "You put some effort into this project, and leave my brother alone, then I'll help you when you need it. You're dad won't be staying away forever, so if it ever gets too bad, then you can come to my place." Watching Marik's reaction, he sat down next to him. "That way, when he really pisses you off, your first reaction won't be to do a line of coke."

Violet eyes narrowed slightly in question. He'd been given many offers of help in the past, even by his own brother, but always turned them down, or forgot about them. However, with Bakura, there was something even more that wanted to make him turn the snowy haired teen down even more. He had something to gain if the blonde accepted his help; if Marik went to him for help, then he'd owe Bakura, and the Egyptian didn't like the thought of that. He already felt he owed the snowy haired teen for finding him after he overdosed.

"I'll leave your brother alone, and I'll even help you with this assignment," Marik stated, sitting up. "But I'll be damned if I go to you for help."

Bakura shrugged, looking away from the blonde. "Whatever," he said. "At least I'm getting you to work on this."

The Egyptian stared at the snowy haired teen for a long time before looking away. "Why did you help me?" he asked, staring out the window. "Why didn't you just leave me to die?"

Blinking, Bakura's eyes narrowed, before turning to Marik. "Why are you so willing to die?" he countered. "And why should I make your life easy?"

Glaring, Marik got off the bed, going over to his dresser, grabbing the pack of cigarettes he hid from Rishid, lighting up before going over to the open window, allowing the smoke to escape. "It wouldn't make life easier," he stated, "it would make your life easier, and your brother's life easier."

Bakura shook his head, standing to go look through Marik's books. "And what about your brother?" he questioned, plucking a book off the shelf. "Would you dying make his life easier?"

"Probably," Marik answered without hesitation. "He could focus more on work. And my father might get over his alcoholism."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Your father was an alcoholic long before you came into existence," he said. "A person knows long before they are considered an alcoholic that they are." He paused, turning to Marik. "Same with druggies. After you did your first line of coke, and all your troubles in the world vanished, you felt great, and you were hooked."

"Cocaine is a drug your hooked on after one hit," Marik argued.

Bakura shook his head, putting the book away. "You got hooked on it because your mind liked what it did," he stated. "Mentally, you needed it to go on, and you decided that after your first line."

Frowning, the blonde looked out the window, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Slowly, blue smoke left the Egyptian's nose, a trail of smoke traveling up from the white stick. He tried to push Bakura's words from his mind, not wanting to believe that he was weak enough to need drugs, but at the same time, he knew it was true. After every line of coke, and after every drink, he had no problems. All the physical and mental pain was gone. Then his high would wear off, and he'd crash back to reality; fall through the thick shell of pain that reminded him of his weakness.

When his cigarette was gone, he stubbed it out on the window still, tossing the butt into a bowl of sand by the desk. His eyes settled on Bakura, watching as the snowy haired teen looked through his books, before pulling one out, leafing through its pages. Violet eyes widened when he realized which book it was and quickly moved over to him, taking the book away. "I think you should leave," he stated.

Bakura watched Marik oddly then nodded, grabbing his bag, staring at the blond. "If you're serious about helping with the assignment, then you could do some more research," he stated. "Your books are good, but we need more information for the whole thing."

Nodding, Marik tossed his book onto the bed. "I'll consider doing something," he mumbled, looking away from the snowy haired teen. With a sigh, Bakura left Marik's room, truly doubting the blonde would do anything.

* * *

The next day, Bakura sat at the lunch table with his friends, each of them talking about their weekend plans. So far, they planned to see a movie on Friday night. Saturday, they were going to an underground rave. Finally, on Sunday, they were going to the mall; Malik wanting a new pair of leather pants, and the rest of them needing new CDs, or wanting a new movie to watch. Sighing, the snowy haired teen continued to go through one of Marik's books, making little notes on a sheet of paper for the report. 

"Great, look who decided to join us," Malik grumbled as Marik entered the cafeteria. The blonde had his hair pulled up, not having the energy to spike the long strands. Violet eyes settled on Bakura, and his slowly made his way over to him. Chocolate eyes made their way to the big stack of white papers in the tan hands. The first thing that surprised him was it had to be at least a hundred pages, and he couldn't believe the same person who was so adamant about not doing the assignment could find that much information.

"Here's everything I could find," Marik stated before Bakura could ask, dropping the huge stack of papers in front of the snowy haired teen, who just sat there, dumbfounded. "I'm sure there's more I could get if I tried harder, but I figured that on top of the books would be enough."

"Plenty," Bakura commented, looking up at the blonde. "...you actually looked this all up?"

Rolling his violet eyes, the Egyptian nodded. "I couldn't sleep," he said, shrugging. "So I looked up a few things for this project." Reaching up, he ran a hand through hid blonde hair, stopping at the bun. At times, his skin would crawl, making his head feel like it was covered with bugs. He blamed the withdrawal.

"What does this say?" Bakura questioned, pointing to some written Egyptian.

"Shit," Marik swore, flipping through the pages. With a sigh, he pulled a pen from his pocket and sat down, going through the pages, translating his own words.

"So, I'm surprised they let you back in school," Malik commented, somewhat viciously.

Marik glanced to Malik, eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm surprised you've survived this long with that mouth of yours," he said, going back to what he was doing.

The other blonde snorted, packing his stuff and standing. "Whatever," he grumbled, storming off.

Marik rolled his eyes, going back to translating the Egyptian written on the paper. Ryou leaned over, looking at the foreign words. "Who taught you Egyptian?" the small teen asked softly.

The blonde glanced to Ryou and shrugged. "My mother taught me," he stated. "It just stuck because I write to my brother in it." Bakura listened with interest, watching the violet eyed teen leaf through the pages. Parts had been highlighted, the colors varying. He assumed each color had a purpose.

When the bell rang, they all stood and headed to class, Marik and Bakura walking together. "Want to come over after school?" the snowy haired teen asked. "We can sift through all this research."

Marik shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I guess," he said. "Are you sure your brother won't freak?"

"If you leave him alone, he'll be fine," Bakura stated. "See ya."  
"Later," Marik said, walking off.


End file.
